


Parts Unknown

by ruemasde



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower Route, Fluff, M/M, Post Timeskip, Post War, and so I have focused on that, when i first read their ending i thought they were mostly traveling outside of fodlan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 09:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruemasde/pseuds/ruemasde
Summary: The war is finally over, and Caspar is doing what he can to avoid thinking about what comes after, and what Linhardt's role in that after might be.





	Parts Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written any fic, but I really love my Black Eagles kids. I hope Caspar isn't too ooc here, but I figure the end of five years of war will make most people act a little off. Hope you enjoy!

It takes Caspar a week after the war ends to realize that the war has actually ended. Their amys march across Faerghus had been slow and seemed to last forever. For the last few months they had been so focused on the end, on getting to Fhirdiad that it was hard to imagine that they wouldn’t just be doing this forever; that they wouldn’t just march and fight and march until they dropped.

But the road ended, and they defeated Rhea in the burning wreckage of Fhirdiad, and the war is over. 

They day after the war ends, he wakes up with the sun and gets dressed and heads to the war room, and it isn’t until he sees it empty that he remembers there is no more need for war meetings. It feels strange to go back to his room and remove his armor and gauntlets. He goes to the dining hall instead, and sees that some of his old classmates must have had the same instincts to rise early as he did, because Dorothea and Petra are chatting quietly over breakfast and- there is Linhardt, already asleep again on the table. 

Caspar’s stomach does a funny flip when he sees him there. Linhardt’s always been able to sleep whenever, but as the war dragged on Caspar had noticed that even in sleep Linhardt didn’t seem as relaxed as he used to, as if the stress of the war was infecting even his dreams. But here, the day after the war, his face seems more relaxed than it has in months, and Caspar stubbornly ignores whatever feeling that is trying to evoke in him as he sits down to join them for breakfast.

Because there are- things. Things that have been left unsaid between them. Like how Caspar had rushed halfway across the battlefield when he saw Linhardt clutching the gash in his shoulder as he barely managed to avoid the full thrust of an enemy spear. How Caspar had tackled the soldier just as he lifted his lance again to make another strike, sending the weapon through his own stomach. Like the way Linhardt had held one hand on his cheek, the other pressed firmly on his stomach, healing the wound up before Caspar could even feel the pain. The way his eyes had looked, alert for once and scared and determined and all focus on him, with blood on his cheek, paying no mind to the clashing blows around them. How Linhardt had said, when Caspar could pick himself up and pick up his axe and stand again, “Don’t do that again,” and how Caspar had just laughed because he wouldn't want to agree and lie. 

It felt wrong to talk about it during the war, when neither of them needed any distractions, and Caspar has never been one for- this. These sorts of feelings. And his normal response to feeling weird about something is to talk about it with Linhardt, who would make fun of him about it and then come up with a perfect solution, but he definitely can’t ask Linhardt to solve this problem.

So, there are some things they haven't talked about. And Caspar isn’t normally a _ don’t talk about it _kind of guy. When something is on his mind, it’s really only a matter of time before he blurts it out. But the war has only ended a week ago, and he hasn’t even let himself think about it. Whenever his thoughts turn to Linhardt’s hand cupping his cheek and the warmth he felt that had nothing to do with the holy magic stitching his stomach back up, he gets up and finds something to do. He doesn’t have to prepare for battle anymore, but there are still things to move, meals to cook, fires to start; all sorts of menial labor that can distract him from examining his feelings for his best friend. 

And really, he was doing a great job of it until he found Linhardt sleeping on a couch in the Captain’s Quarters.

He’d come up to the second floor to see if anyone had needed a hand, and when he turned into the office he froze at the sight. Linhardt had clearly fallen asleep while reading since a book was dangling off his knee, barely held on by the loose grip of his fingers. His head was lolled back on the back of the couch, his hair splayed out over the back.

Caspar had tried to let Linhardt sleep when he could during the war, but often when the mage was missing he would be the one sent to find him and wake him up so he could attend the war meeting, or help in the infirmary, or whatever else the Imperial Army needed him to do. But now he can just let his friend sleep. He should sneak out now and find someone who needs help with something, but he can tell that the book is going to fall any second. Linhardt can sleep through just about anything once he’s in a deep enough sleep, but a book falling on his foot when he’s just passed out could wake him, and Caspar wants to let Linhardt enjoy his rest again.

He walks quietly to the sleeping man, trying to gently take the book out of Linhardt’s hand and place in on the table. But Linhardt must not have been as deeply asleep as he appeared, because just as Caspar moved the book he stirred, brushing their hands together. Caspar froze as Linhardt blearily opened his eyes and lifted his head, giving Caspar a look of _ Why are you disturbing my nap? _ that he had seen a million times over.

Linhardt’s hands weren’t as soft as they had been in the academy, showing some of the calluses caused by his infrequent and unskilled use of a sword when he was tapped out of magic, or the still healing blisters from when he had redirected an enemy mages fire attack back at them. Still, they were softer than Caspar’s, who were rough from years of using his axe and his gauntlets and sometimes his bare fists. 

Suddenly Caspar realizes he is getting dangerously close to thinking about _ it _and forces himself to come back to the moment and not dwell on touching hands. He says, “Sorry bud, I wanted to move your book so it didn’t wake you up when it fell.”

Linhardt just blinked again and looked down at his lap, where the book lay beneath his hand, and with Caspars still on top. Noticing this Caspar pulled his away, trying not to show that is had been more than a passing touch.

He really- this was too much. Caspar had come here to avoid thinking about Linhardt and now here he was, falling over himself about accidentally touching hands like a preteen with a crush. He had to get out of here. 

He tried to make his escape, saying, “Well, I’ll let you get back to your nap,” but was stopped when Linhardt grabbed his hand by the wrist. 

“You need your rest as well,” he said, stifling a yawn in the middle of the sentence. “I haven’t seen you sit down except to eat dinner since we’ve been back at the monastery. Sit.” To Caspars horror, he found himself being pulled down to the couch, next to Linhardt. 

Linhardt didn’t really have the strength to pull him down, especially when he was already half falling back asleep, but Caspar was too surprised to stop himself from going with him, plopping down in the spot next to him. Capsar let out a noise of protest but didn’t know what to do. This was going directly against his plan of “Ignore Linhardt until I stop feeling weird around him,” because he was certainly getting those weird feelings now. But also, it was nice, just sitting next to his friend. Maybe he could use this to get all these feelings over and done with, so they could go back to normal.

As if he read Caspars mind and decided to ruin his plan, Linhardt said, as his eyes were already beginning to droop, “So you don’t go anywhere, I’m going to use you as a pillow,” he yawned. “Goodnight.” And Linhardt let his head fall into Caspar’s lap.

It took him a while to realize what was going on, because for a few minutes the only thing he could hear was the rapid sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. But eventually he could think again and realized that yes, Linhardt _ had _ immediately fallen asleep. He was facing the ceiling and his legs were hanging over the edge of the couch. His hair was splayed out on Caspars lap, some of it covering his face from where it had come loose from his bun.

Caspar's hand was over Linhardt's hair before he even thought about it, and he stopped himself for a moment to try and think about what he was doing. His heart was still pounding in his ears and his stomach was in knots, but somehow this was the most comfortable he has felt in weeks. Like it was natural that they could fall back into their old habit of Linhardt using him as a pillow to force him to settle down. But he hadn’t fallen asleep on his lap in years, not since well before they came to the Officer’s Academy when Caspar had told him to stop using him like furniture. Knowing that Linhardt felt relaxed enough again to do this made it hard for Caspar to resent it though.

His hand was still hovering by Linhardt’s hair, and this time he let himself gently push a strand of it out of his face. Linhardt didn’t flinch, and so Caspar moved another. Once he did, he couldn’t convince himself to stop; self restraint had never been his strong suit. He continued to run his fingers through his hair. It was maybe the first time Caspar had ever wished to have gentler hands; he was used to hand to hand combat, and his hands seemed too rough to stroke Linhardt’s hair like this. But he didn't move, his only reaction a slight relaxation of his shoulders. It made Caspar's chest feel warm, to know that he was able to help remove some of the tension that’s been plaguing Linhardt for months.

Linhardt’s hair was soft. Caspar remembered the day Dorothea had felt it and demanded to know his secret, and wouldn't believe him when Linhardt said he didn’t do anything to it. But Caspar knew that it was the truth. His hair had felt soft since they were kids, when Caspar would try and tug on it to wake him up and Linhardt would just slap his hand away without even opening his eyes. 

The motion was soothing, and Caspar lets his own head loll back as he continues to stroke Linhardt's hair. His mind isn’t eating itself as he tries to avoid thinking about Linhardt; he feels relaxed for the first time in weeks. 

So he nearly jumps out of his skin when Linhardt says, eyes still closed in his lap, “I’ve been thinking about leaving.”

His heart is pounding again and it’s a wonder Linhardt doesn't comment on it. His hand freezes where it had been in his hair, hoping Linhardt has somehow only just woken up and hasn’t realized just what he's been doing for the past Goddess knows how long. All of this is to say, the only reply he can give is a somewhat strained, “What?!”

Linhardt continues to be oblivious to the panic Caspar is going through, and says again, “I’ve been thinking about leaving.”

Regaining his composure and trying to keep his voice as casual as possible, Caspar says “Oh yeah? I suppose it is about time we start to head home, Edelgard’s been settling in-”

Linhardt cuts in, “No, I’ve been thinking about leaving the Empire. Leaving Fódlan.” 

The pounding in his chest suddenly vanishes as his heart stops. 

Linhardt is still oblivious to the cardiac distress he’s in and his eyes are still closed when he says, “I went through this war because we kept saying Fódlan would be better for it. That despite all the sacrifice, we would be building a better future. And maybe that will be true, but right now everywhere I look in Fódlan I keep seeing the war. I want to be able to live without being surrounded by the ruins we left behind.”

“Woah, woah- what?! But, I- what about your crest research? Weren’t you going to work on something for Edelgard?” Caspar honestly isn’t sure how much of the desperation he’s feeling is leaking into his voice but he can’t focus on that because ten minutes ago he was stroking Linhardt’s hair and now Linhardt is leaving the continent.

“Everything I’ve seen of crests has just convinced me more and more that they are fundamentally tools of war. Their properties and their development are still fascinating, of course, but…” and he trails off for a minute, going quiet, before saying, “I don’t want to help develop a new way of waging war. Edelgard wouldn’t use them like that, but we can’t predict the future, and I don’t want a part in whatever new ways people find to kill each other in a hundred years.”

Caspar can’t argue against that, and- maybe he understands, this desire to leave all the remnants of this bloody history behind him. He hasn’t really thought too much about what he would be doing after the war; whether he would still be a general, whether he would take over the Bergliez territories if Edelgard deposed his brother, or whether he would just wander, maybe as a sort of mercenary to help people who had been trampled on by the war. But in all the visions he’d have of the future, he realizes now that Linhardt had been by his side in all of them; had been healing him back up while chastising him when he came back from a mission, had been teasing him when they met at a council meeting, had been waiting for him at a table in a tavern after a long day. He tries to think of these futures without Linhardt and it just feels wrong, empty. 

And Caspar can’t think clearly, and he can’t focus on not sounding like this isn’t shaking his foundations. So he doesn’t think at all before he says, “So, you’re just going to leave? What about me?”

He regrets the words as soon as he says them, knowing that he was not able to bottle up all the feelings he’s been pushing down.

At that, Linhardt finally opens his eyes and looks up, finally seeing Caspar's face of barely concealed panic. He opens his mouth for a second, closes it, and then opens it again to say, “Oh, I… I guess I'd assumed you’d come with me.”

Caspar can just stare down at him in shock. He looks surprisingly vulnerable saying that, like he hadn’t really thought it through either. Caspar is still reeling about all of this though, and Linhardt seems to mistake his silence, saying, “Of course, I know you don’t feel the same way about the war as I do, you'll certainly be able to make a good life here, and…”

Linhardt rambles on, trying to cover that moment of vulnerability, but in Caspar's mind “I’d assumed you’d come with me,” is replaying over and over. Linhardt had been thinking of this, and had just been imagining himself with Caspar, just like Caspar had. Imaging the two of them, setting off beyond Fódlan, into Dagda or Almyra or parts unknown, but together. 

Caspar only realizes how long he's been quiet when Linhardt says “Caspar?” in a guarded voice and he realizes Linhardt has not been talking and has just been staring up at him, head still in his lap. Caspar is still too stunned to have any sort of filter, so the only thing he can say is, “Of course I’d go with you.”

And Linhardt starts saying “Right, right, of course you wouldn't -,” but he cuts himself off when he actually listens to what Caspar has said. 

Caspar feels a grin overtake him, his mind finally catching up with what's happening. He keeps talking, saying, “I was the second son, and even if there’s no nobility now, I’d thought about maybe leaving the Empire. And I do believe that this war will lead to a better future, but if it has, then it wont need me here. And besides,” he says, letting his hand move again from where it had been still in Linhardt’s hair since he woke up, stroking it gently, “Someone needs to keep you from trouble! You’d get tired and fall asleep in a ditch your first day out without me!”

Linhardt's eyes are wide, and go wider when Caspar began stroking his hair again, and for a moment Caspar was afraid he’d done something wrong, when Linhardt closes his eyes again and his whole body relaxes. A small smile tugs on his lips when he says “Right, and surely the first day I was gone you wouldn't get into a training accident and have no one else to run to because you made the other healers mad.”

And Caspar can't fight the laugh bubbling up inside him that feels right at home with the warm feeling in his chest that has reemerged with seeing Linhardt smiling, relaxed again, even as he protests “Hey! that was one time and Professor Manuela was already having a bad week so it wasn’t my fault!”

Linhardt just hums like he doesn't believe him, and Caspar says, “Fine, so I guess we need each other, huh?” 

Linhardts smile gets a bit wider and says “Yes, I suppose we do.”


End file.
